


Missed chances

by cherrygoldlove



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Engagement, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Heartbreak, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 12:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17304554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrygoldlove/pseuds/cherrygoldlove
Summary: Eve leaned across Q's desk.“Bond has someone!”Q's eyebrow lifted as he sent her a quick look from above his glasses.“Hehas someoneevery thirty minutes.” He returned his gaze to the screen and continued to type.“No, not likethat! He has someone long term, they're dating!”





	Missed chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nebelkraehe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebelkraehe/gifts).



Eve leaned across Q's desk.

“Bond has someone!”

Q's eyebrow lifted as he sent her a quick look from above his glasses.

“He _has someone_ every thirty minutes.” He returned his gaze to the screen and continued to type.

“No, not like _that_! He has someone long term, they're dating!”

Q's breath hitched, but he tried not to show how his heart skipped a beat.

“How are you so sure?”

“He confirmed it himself when I asked him about the young man he was picking up a couple of times from Vauxhall's tube station.”

Q's fingers faltered on the keyboard.

“A man?” He asked, voice tight. He saw Bond engage in homosexual flirting and intercourse couple of times on the missions, but… to have James date a man off duty?

“Yes! I know, no one would guess he'd end up with a man after going through the strings of beautiful women. But that man of his - he's a looker! Tall, willowy, auburn hair and a splatter of freckles all over his nose. Don't know how old is he, looks like a student. Of course one thing wouldn't change and he'd go for a youngster.” 

Q set his mouth in a thin line and continued to type.

 

 

*

 

 

“Did you see that bouquet he got for his boyfriend? I was so surprised he didn't go for fifty red roses and instead chose-”

'peonies, thirty-six peonies’ Q mouthed silently.

“-peonies! Thirty six perfectly pink peonies.” Eve drummed on dreamily not paying attention to Q’s souring mood. 

 

 

*

 

“I never thought Bond would wear such a shawl, doesn't suit him at all. Must be that boyfriend of his picking it up for him.” Eve mused as she watched said agent on the other side of the conference room talking with M.

Q spared the blond just the quickest of glances. He knew exactly how the man obtained his deep magenta shawl, and yes it has been the _boyfriend’s_ doing, but not as a gift per se. 

Not even forty minutes ago, Q’s face recognition program pinged, informing him Bond and his… boyfriend arrived at vauxhall tube station. And Q watched, bitter and jealous, as the boy undid the scarf from his own neck and wrapped it around James’ when a cold wind tugged at their clothes as they stood on the corner and talked. Q’s fingers curling into fists, anger and want, as he saw James being tugged in by said shawl for a deep, passionate kiss.

“When he’ll try to get it conveniently lost, do try and snatch it though. Looks like quality stuff and something you’d wear.” Eve whispered with a mischievous smile.

Q bristled. As if. As if he’d wear that, that boy’s things! And if Bond would notice… no way in hell.

Though it did look exactly as something he’d choose for himself...

 

*

 

Weeks turned into months and Q's mood soured with each passing second. Bond was still in relationship and it seemed to be doing wonders for his mind. And physique.

Nowadays Bond was loose in the shoulders, no longer as sarcastic and biting, more flirtatious, but also damn sharp with his mind. His missions went off without a hitch more often than not and he was back in the country regularly. 

What was surprising though, was that it seemed his and Bond’s relationship flourished too, against all odds. They talked like never before, Bond opening up and sharing his thoughts, Q indulgently answering James’ questions - both personal and professional. They shared jokes and easy banter, but never flirted anymore, and never, ever, talking about _him_.

Q fought long and hard with himself, but in the end, lost.

He now knew all there was to be known about one Liam Tomlinson, an only child, born in Northampton twenty five years ago to Adam and Ida Tomlinson nee Cadbury, who then finished his schools in two different cities to finally come to study surprise, surprise, IT and Computer Science in London and then stea-... Seduc-... Settle down with one James Bond. 

Q carefully went through Liam’s full school history, marking all the subjects, teachers… boyfriends (five of them, all steady and long-term) and the boy’s internet history (awfully unprotected for one studying IT, such a shame, as otherwise, the boy appeared to be quite brilliant). 

So brilliant indeed that Q, with much dismay, placed him on MI6’s watch list. If he’ll be able to work with the boy if/when he got recruited he didn’t know. He’d deal with it when it happened.

Liam was all perfection with a quirk for wickedness if his search and online shopping history was anything to go by on - lingerie, and an unhealthy amount of sex toys rivaling in number only Q's own collection, though Q's was of much finer quality.

They must be having a lot of fun.

Q's fingers unwittingly scrunched up the paper he was holding.

Eyes widening, he quickly relaxed his hold and laying the papers down on the table, smoothed out the wrinkles.

He was happy for James, trully. The blond man deserved all the happiness he could get. 

...it was only a bloody shame it was not with Q.

The boffin rubbed his eyes tiredly, the glasses lifted up from his nose. 

Their relationship has been strained for a long time after… after Q told James that he wasn't interested in Bond fucking him and moving to the next sweet thing a week later, that Bond didn't have it in him to be monogamous off missions, that he wasn’t able to date and go steady.

Only it seemed Bond could do all those things now, but Q was left to observe from outside how good at relationships James really was. Almost a year now. 

Q jumped when the doors to his office opened and Eve strutted in, a giddy smile on her face, by the looks of the mischievous blink in her eye, some fresh company gossip.

“You'll never guess! He's getting married!”

Q's stomach tightened painfully, a cold spreading deep in his chest.

Swallowing, he looked up at Eve and tried for a polite, interested smile. Eyes blinking harsh and the smile flickering unsteady on his face.

“Who?”

“Bond! He's got the ring and he'll propose over the weekend! The ring is rather… peculiar, but he assured me his sweetheart will love it!” Eve sighed happily, plopping herself into a nearby chair. 

Q felt bile raising in his throat, eyes prickling uncomfortably.

“He- he showed you the ring?” 

“Yes! It's this-”

Murmuring a quick apology, Q slapped a hand over his mouth and stood up, walking briskly out of his office and across the floor of his department. Safely out in the corridor, he broke into a mad dash to lavatories.

He crashed hard to his knees in front of a toilet bowl, stomach rolling as tears sprung from his eyes. Hiccuping, he cried out loudly, mouth filling with sour bile. His stomach was empty, there wasn't really anything to throw up, but the crushing feeling in his chest made his belly roll. Feeling cold and miserable, body trembling he cried and wailed into the toilet. 

Married. Married! 

He slumped down next to the toilet bowl, back against the cold, tiled wall. Covering his face with his hands, he wept silently.

 

*

 

He went home how he stood, no coat, no laptop, no phone.

A sleight of hand earned him some change for the tube and an hour later he was home. Cats meowing and swiveling around his ankles as he collapsed onto his couch. 

There was an emptiness in him that had nothing to do with hunger and sleep deprivation. There weren't even any tears left. He just sat there numbly, staring at the wall, hoping the cats’ purring will sooth his aching heart.

 

 

*

 

 

It got dark outside by the time he felt he had the strength to move. 

He fed the cats, made some tea for himself. 

But he couldn't drink it, stomach feeling too tight for it still, his hands trembling too harsh. 

Grabbing a blanket he went back to the couch and wrapping it around himself he sat down. He'll need to contact Eve and R, tell them he had a stomach bug. But he'll need to go back to work tomorrow, he'll need to learn how to smile and be happy with J-

His breath hitched.

He'll be fine. He'll learn to pretend. Better.

Every mentioned date… it hurt but he learned to live with this twitches of pain.

They never talked about /him/. Never. Q never brought it up, James never offered any insights. It was only Eve’s gossip, sometimes Tanner’s brief comment… more often than not Q's eyes on the CCTV. He wondered if Bond knew.

He probably did, spy and all that.

Sagging against the backrest, Q plucked off his glasses and rubbed at his face with his other hand.

Dumb, he was so dumb… why couldn't he at least try and make it work with Bond? No, he had to just push it all away. 

“That was overly dramatic, even for you, don't you think?”

Q didn't even jump. Of course. He just laughed mirthlessly and slowly straightened up, placing his glasses back on his nose.

“What are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you. Eve notified me of you… suddenly feeling indisposed.”

“I'll be alright, you can go home.” Q replied with a tired smile, lowering his head down to not have to look at James’ beloved face.

He closed his eyes as he felt the couch dip next to him, a heavy arm gathering him close. Pushing weakly against James’ firm chest, he tried to fight it. It'll just hurt so much more after, so much colder in his bones.

But in the end he gave in, settling close into James’ side, relishing the heat, the closeness, the steady heartbeat under his ear. The mouth pressing kisses into his hair.

“I'm sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It's, it's me, I…”

“No, shhh. I pushed you too far, I'm sorry.”

Bond's words didn't make much sense to Q's muddled brain, so he just turned his head and rubbed against the muscled, wide chest, his glasses digging painfully into his face. His mouth was dry as he breathed openmuthed against James’ blue sweater.

“Forgive me?” Bond's voice was soft, his breath hot against Q's scalp.

“Yes, always.” 

Bond took his hand, but instead of just weaving their fingers together, something firm was pushed on Q's finger.

Q swallowed hard. A ring. But why would James do this, now? It was too cruel, especially after that weird question. There was nothing for Q to forgive Bond for. Maybe for this, though. This one last jab at Q's bleeding heart.

“You got me mistaken with someone else.” It was physically painful for him to say that, throat tight.

“I'd never mistake you for anyone else. It's always been you. Since the very first time I saw you in that gallery.”

“I don't understand.” Q croaked out, opening his eyes and looking at the ring, fitting so perfectly on his ring finger. Some part of him couldn't help the slight tug at his lips, a smile, a laugh at how, indeed, peculiar the gold ring was. It looked like a lot of tiny electronic devices, guns, bullets, radios molded and melted together in an undefined shape and studded here and there with tiny colourful stones. He ran his thumb over the ring and was surprised to find a smooth surface on the bottom. Twisting his hand, he could see a perfectly shaped, smooth heart held in two tiny hands, a Celtic knot pattern starting at the sleeves and being swallowed by the chaos that was the rest of the ring. 

No one knew he was part Irish. Or so he thought.

“There's diamonds under the top part of the band, on the inside.” James chose to say instead of making the rest of the situation clear.

Q was silent, running his thumb over the ring on and on again, his chest felt tight and painful, his limbs cold. 

“Tall, willowy, into IT? Never made you wonder?”

Q shook his head dumbly. Ok, maybe it did, but in the way that he was /replaced/ by someone not so complicated, easier. He still didn’t understand what exactly was going on.

“I know, the freckles and auburn hair. But he was close enough.”

Q sat up straight, pulling away from James’ hold, and looked into the blue gaze. His mind was working a mile a minute.

“Close enough to.. what?”

“To you. He was you to me. Like going undercover, he was you to me. To show you I can be what you need me to be, to show _me_ I can be this person and… with you it's easy, for you it's so easy, Remy.”

“But…”

“Liam knows there's someone else. He knows he's the 'someone else’. For now. Until you say 'yes’ to me, until you agree to be mine.”

Q burst out loud with a teary laugh, quickly covering his outburst with a hand over his mouth.

This was all so… devious and complicated and just so… he couldn’t find a word to describe James’ game.

He pushed further away from James and resting his elbows on his knees he buried his face in his hands, glasses pushed up on his forehead. In his head he was going through all interactions he had with James through the last year, all the conversations he cherished, all the little gifts he did get now and then from the blond. Watching or being informed of all the things James did with or for Liam, how Q always thought it was just a little too perfect, just a little too similar to his interests and desires and…

“Does Eve know? Tanner?”

James shifted on the couch next to him and Q could feel him sit just next to him, almost mirroring his posture.

“Eve figured it out four months in and let me tell you she wasn’t happy at all. She had a harsh choice of words for me, but in the end agreed to keep quiet and help as much as she could as she thinks both of us are “dumb, lost, helpless puppies”. And that was a quote.”

Of course. That’s why she was running to him with every bit of juicy gossip, tormenting him with all the unwanted insights of James’ relationship.

Q startled a bit when he felt James’ forehead rest against his shoulder.

“I knew you were watching me, I could tell whenever you spied on me and Liam. You had that look in your eyes after…”

Swallowing hard, Q licked his dry lips, smacking his mouth couple times before he could force words out. He wanted to tell James how it hurt, how cruel the games was, but... he also never had anyone fight so hard for him, go as far as into such a complicated intrigue.

“We're so silly, aren't we?”

James laughed softly. 

The room was quiet around them, not even the cats making any noise around the apartment.

Q could feel James pull away and his stomach constricted once more in panic, was it it?

But lifting his head up, he saw James slid down to his knees in front of him, hands reaching for Q’s own.

“Will you now let me have you? To hold and to cherish and love, in sickness and in health till death do us part?”

Blinking hard, trying to chase away the tears, Q nodded, frantically. He laughed seeing James’ face light up, a broad smile stretching his crooked lips before Q was pulled down into James’ lap and held fiercely in the blond’s arms.

Whispering “yes” over and over against the man’s stupid, dumbo ears, Q wrapped his own arms around James’ shoulders, holding tight.

They still had a lot to talk about, to discuss and Q really wanted to give both James and Eve a good bollocking, but it could wait. For now, he shifted in James’ arms, arranging his arms so he could frame the other man’s head in his palms and pressed in close for a deep kiss.


End file.
